To Become a Malfoy : ABC Lessons
by moon's the limit
Summary: Draco and Harry are always fighting. Well, Dumbledore has a plan. A plan that includes meeting everyday for twenty-six days. Harry doesn't want to follow through, but Malfoy seems willing. au!6th year. Future Draco / Harry.
1. the beginning

**Disclaimer ::** When Lucius dances to Barbie Girl.  
**Author's Note ::** Here it is! The new and improved version of How to Be a Malfoy : ABC Lessons- To Become a Malfoy : ABC. Exciting, ne? Pfft, I know. Anywho. I want to thank those who stuck with the older version of the story and its stupidity. This version, though, will be taken on a more serious note. As you can read below, Draco's personality was altered a bit. Aside from that, I really, really need a beta. It would be truly helpful if you can, by any chance, help me out. English is not my first language, so I might have some grammatical errors here and there. That's about it ; enjoy this chapter ~ ! **EDIT;** apparently there was some sort of "AN" in the middle of this chapter. I removed that so that it wouldn't confuse some people. C:

* * *

"What does it say, Harry?" Hermione's voice asked from his left side.

Green hues raked the small piece of parchment.

"It's from Dumbledore," Harry replied within moments, "said he needs to talk to me."

The Chosen One peered upward at his two best friends. "Reckon what he wants."

Ron shrugged. "Another lesson, maybe?"

Harry felt rather hopeful after those words. Private lessons with Dumbledore again- but what would Dumbledore want him to see? It was probably something involving Voldemort. After all, Voldemort disappeared after their last battle last year.

Hermione, on the other hand, had opposing thoughts. "Maybe he wants to talk to you about your OWLs."

Harry ( and Ron too ) stared at their bushy-haired friend in disbelief. Why would Dumbledore want to pull him aside to talk about his grades? Besides, Harry thought he did fairly well on his fifth year examinations.

Hermione flushed lightly and closed her book. "It's a possibility."

She was ignored. Harry stood up with the note clasped in his palm. "I'll go see what Dumbledore wants."

"See you, Harry."

As he left the Gryffindor common room, the sounds of faint bickering was heard from where Hermione and Ron sat. As always, Harry chose to ignore that and made his way towards the headmaster's office.

Coming up to the gargoyle statue, the young brunette halted and examined the blockage closely.

"Er . . . lemon drops?"

The statue did not budge.

"Chocolate frogs?"

Nothing happened.

Harry withdrew the parchment from his pockets and looked for any hints. Nothing. That was odd. How was he suppose to meet Dumbledore if he didn't know the password in? He could be outside pondering for hours on what the password is. What if someone caught him and gave him detention? Like prefects-

"The password is toffee eclairs."

Speak of the devil.

Harry whirled around towards the voice, and immediately, a frown dawned on his lips.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

The blond Slytherin merely rolled his eyes and stepped from the way of the gargoyle when it leaped aside. "To visit the headmaster, of course," he answered before strolling in.

Oh. So that's what this was about. Malfoy- wait, Malfoy must've said- gahh, he was going to get in trouble!

Harry gathered his place and zipped through the entrance before it closed once more. Arriving at the foot of the inner entrance, he could see Dumbledore sitting behind his desk and Malfoy slumping against one of the two drawn out chairs.

"I didn't do it," Harry spoke off first hand.

"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore replied in his soft voice, completely ignoring the words spoken by Harry.

Harry hesitated, looking from the chair to Malfoy ( who bothered not to look in his direction ), before taking his seat and leaning away from the blond as far as he could manage.

"It has been brought upon my attention that you two are fighting again. You both are in the sixth year. It's been five long years of rivalry. Is it not possible to get along for this year and the next?"

Harry shot a glare at Malfoy, but Malfoy remained unfazed and did not even look back. That was odd. Usually, they would have a glaring contest whenever they got the chance to.

"I would propose to stick you both in the same room for a month or have you attached by the wrist, but ah, you see, many problems such as changing into new clothes would be hard to do with that proposition. In the end, I came to only one conclusion."

Harry shifted in his chair.

Dumbledore did not seem to notice the movement and continued speaking.

"You two will get to know each other and each other's life styles. No surveys will be completed, though." The headmaster smiled faintly upon his own spoken words. "Let's say that Draco prefers to begin this routine. Draco will teach, tell, and explain a piece of information from his lifestyle, past, and future each day until Christmas break. Once you both return from Christmas break, the roles would be reversed so that you will tell Draco of your lifestyle. You will both get twenty-six days each."

"But, sir-" Harry started, but Dumbledore raised a hand and issued silence.

"You will go to classes, as normal, of course. Once you are dismissed for dinner at six, you may begin your tellings. You have until ten, which is when you return to the Gryffindor tower, Harry, and when you start your prefect duties, Draco."

"Quidditch practice, though-"

"I'm sure the tellings would take no longer than an hour. Now, with that settled. Any questions?"

Silence overtook the office for a few moments before Malfoy raised his hand slightly.

Dumbledore gazed over at the Slytherin male. "Yes, Draco?"

"May I go first? I want to get it out of the way."

Harry, shocked for the most that they didn't get into an argument on who goes first, sat up in his seat.

"That is fine by me. Harry?"

Green orbs snapped from the figure in the chair beside him to the headmaster. "Sir?"

"Would it be a problem if Draco went first?"

"I . . . uh, no. I don't mind."

Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent. You may go."

Harry got to his feet and glanced over at Malfoy, who remained seated.

Turning towards the headmaster, he noted the faint nod.

Harry cleared his throat. "Good night, Professor Dumbledore," he said before turning to leave.

"And to Draco as well, Harry."

Harry peeked over his shoulder at the slumped blond. "Er, night, Malfoy."

Hurrying out of the office before Dumbledore could make any further comment, Harry ran towards the Gryffindor Tower, eager to tell Hermione and Ron of Dumbledore's plan for him and Malfoy.

* * *

I live on reviews, guys, I really do. It would be certainly helpful if you spare a few moments of your time commenting this. I would be eternally grateful as well ~ x3


	2. lesson a

**Rated:** T  
**Warnings:** male / male, slight OOCness, stupidity, leather pants! Draco, innocent! Harry, uncensored words  
**Disclaimer:** Pfft, I can only wish.  
**Author's Notes:** There's this little role called beta and I need one. And keep the reviews coming! I love reviews ~ Oh, and keep an eye out for two quotes you might recognize. ;3

* * *

"What is this?" Harry questioned, peering at the clipboard that was placed in front of him.

"_To Become a Malfoy: ABC Lessons_."

The ravenette tilted his chin up to look at the Slytherin with the quirk of his eyebrow.

"Lessons?" he repeated.

Dropping his gaze back to the clipboard, Harry blinked.

"The headmaster assigned us twenty-six days. There are twenty-six letters in the alphabet," the blond explained in a monotone voice.

Harry looked up at Malfoy ( who was leaning against the wall with arms crossed over his chest and loose white-blond locks falling over his eyes ).

"You're serious?"

Malfoy shot him a look that clearly read '_are you seriously asking me that?_' before pushing himself from the wall and strolling to where Harry stood.

"Of course," he answered, "it's more organized."

The ravenette glanced from the speaker to the clipboard.

This was going to waste his time. Taking lessons- ABC lessons- from Malfoy, nonetheless. He rather be playing Quidditch!

Say, today was-

"It's Saturday, right?" asked Harry half-consciously.

"It is," came the curt reply.

Harry frowned faintly.

That meant Quidditch practice at-

"I need to go. Uh-"

Harry shoved the clipboard into Malfoy's hands. "Dinner, right?"

"After dinner in the Room of Requirements."

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Right. See you-"

He darted off to the practice field quickly.

* * *

'_I need a place where I can meet Malfoy. I need a place- wait- I _need_?_'

Harry scowled at himself for messing up his train of thoughts in trying to open the Room of Requirements.

He needed- wait, no, he didn't _need_- gah!

The raven-haired figure glared at the wall.

He had been pacing back and forth for at least ten minutes now. What was the point of wasting more time outside the Room of Requirements? He could go back to the common room and play a game of wizard chess with Ron with the excuse that he couldn't get through the wall-

Snapping back into reality, Harry blinked.

The doors to the Room of Requirements were opening!

Well, there went his plans.

"Potter, you're late. A Malfoy is never late."

Harry huffed at the comment, but hurried into said room before the doors closed.

"I'm not becoming a Malfoy any time soon," Harry murmured to himself, casting his sights over at the white-blond.

Malfoy eyed him.

"What?"

Harry hesitated, his eyes darting elsewhere for a few moments before answering.

"Nothing."

He heard the opposing male snort, but no words followed.

Finding the situation safe, the Gryffindor peered back in said wizard's direction.

"So, what are we-"

Harry paused briefly and wondered on what was the correct wording to ask, but luckily, Malfoy cut in right there.

"_Lesson A: Acting, Arrangements, and About_."

Harry blinked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and held up a hand towards the other armchair in availability.

"Have a seat," he welcomed.

Harry narrowed his green hues on the Slytherin male, thoughts trained on whether this was a trick or not.

In the end, though, Harry took the look Malfoy was giving him and sat down.

"We will start with _Acting_," the prefect began as he stood up.

Harry, on the edge of the armchair, shrunk back as Malfoy drew near while shrugging off his coat and throwing it aside.

"Potter," the blond breathed, looking at the Gryffindor with hungry eyes.

The ravenette's orbs widened when the sight of the taller male beginning to strip from his tie, all in while pressing himself against the back of the armchair ( a pitiful attempt in trying to get away from the drawing close Malfoy ).

"Mal . . . foy-?"

Harry watched with a mixed frightened and confused expression.

The Slytherin chuckled lightly and came to a halt in front of the piece of furniture the Chosen One placed himself in.

"Scared, Potter?" he questioned in a husky tone.

Besides shuddering at that comment and ignoring the sudden rise of temperature in his cheeks, all Harry could do was stare with widened eyes.

What was going on-?

Should Malfoy be teaching him how to act instead-?

The Gryffindor sucked in a breath as the blond climbed onto the armchair and knelt in front of said male.

Without a moment's notice, Harry's face was cupped by both of the pale figure's hands. His attention, though, soon switched from hands to the slightly parted lips, that was drawing a bit too close for comfort. When the lips formed a faint smirk, emerald orbs returned to the dull gray eyes that were half-lidded during the process of the blond's head tilting to the side and leaning closer. The sound of his heartbeat pounded against his ears, deafening the sound of other quiet shuffles.

Harry swallowed, eyes still focused on the Slytherin.

Wait- what was he doing?

He couldn't move- his voice flew off somewhere- he was completely captivated by Malfoy, of all people.

"Do you want it?" The prefect murmured, mouth a centimeter away from the Golden Boy's.

A sudden urge to lean in and connect his lips to Malfoy's washed over Harry at that moment, but- this was Malfoy! Malfoy for Merlin's sake!

'_Look away,_' Harry willed himself. '_Why are you still looking? Look _away!'

Harry, with all his power and mind on said command, turned his head ever so slightly. This, of course, seemed to be some sort of switch that activated the rest of his body.

Realizing how close the Slytherin was to him, Harry pushed the blond back, only to note that a moment later, it wasn't the best of choice.

Malfoy toppled backwards off the couch.

Lucky enough, as the ravenette breathed in relief, the floor transformed into a soft cushion, catching the other in a better fall.

Scrambling off the armchair, Harry knelt down beside the fallen figure.

"Malfoy, are you-" he hesitated briefly, "are you alright?"

'_What a stupid question._'

Malfoy, in response, ignored the words and stood up before proceeding elsewhere.

"Wait, Malfoy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Forget it, Potter," the blond spat.

Harry slowly rose to his feet so that his sights were on said male's back.

Silence over took him as he gazed at the unmoving figure.

After a few moments, the ravenette took a couple of tensed steps forward.

"Malfoy?" he called nervously. "Look, I didn't mean to push you-"

Cutting his words short, the Chosen One stumbled back a bit when the Slytherin whirled around with gray eyes narrowing at him.

"I said forget it, Potter!"

Whoa, Malfoy was pissed and- wait, crying?

Oh, shite.

"Malfoy . . .?"

The prefect turned away ever so slightly.

"Uh, sorry-"

What was he supposed to say?

"Malfoy, don't cry-?"

'_That sounded like a question._'

"I'm not crying, idiot," Malfoy hissed, glaring in his direction, tears threatening to escape.

Harry gulped.

"Er-"

The moment was very awkward, so Harry couldn't say anything, thank you very much.

All the Gryffindor could do was stare, which wasn't really helping in any way. Just as Harry blinked back to reality, Malfoy was back into the specified armchair of his, leaning to the right, arm propping up the side of his face, hand shielding his eyes.

What was he supposed to do now? Go over and comfort his arch enemy for five years?

Harry hesitated again.

He wasn't that great in comforting- why in the name of Merlin's pants was Malfoy crying, anyways? The fall couldn't have hurt all that much . . . right?

"Leave."

Harry jerked from his thoughts.

"What?"

The blond figure peered up in his direction.

"Leave, Potter."

Harry blinked once more and remained in place.

"Why?"

"Are you deaf, Potter? I told you to leave!"

Alright- Malfoy was definitely having mood swings.

"Okay, okay . . ."

Harry backed away then made a beeline towards the exit.

"Potter, wait-"

At the sound of the slightly panicked voice belonging to the blond, Harry halted in step and whirled around. Malfoy stared at him with a horrified expression.

"What . . .?"

The Gryffindor glanced over his shoulder, then back.

"Wha-"

When he reverted his sights back to the Slytherin Prince, the prat was _laughing_.

Harry stared.

Malfoy was definitely having some serious issues.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?" Harry asked cautiously.

The blond continued laughing and snickering, apparently very delighted by the Chosen One's confused expression.

And then- he completely stopped.

Malfoy's humorous sense drew away from him, and to Harry's absolute horror, the one from the beginning returned. The Ice Prince blankly stared at him while leaning back against the chair.

"That was acting, Potter."

Oh.

. . . _Oh._

Harry stared back in peer disbelief.

All of that- from coming onto him to laughing like a maniac- Malfoy was actually rather good at it.

Not that Harry would ever admit _that_ out loud.

"A Malfoy is high upon acting. From seduction to sadness to happiness."

Harry eyed the other warily.

"First- seduction. Us Malfoys use seduction for our benefits, usually to get what we want. Have you seduced anyone before?"

The corner of Harry's mouth twitched. What kind of question was that?

"No, of course not," the ravenette huffed.

"Then, I will teach you." Malfoy slid off the couch and whisked towards the area in which Harry stood, thunderstruck by such wording.

"The first thing is to get the person's full attention on you. _Complete_ full attention. Next is to make eye contact. It does not matter how long or how short the eye contact is, as long as there was one, the person is closed in."

Harry took a step back from Malfoy, who was leering dangerously close.

"Then, you make your move. Whether it is winking, quirking your eyebrow, tilting your head up ever so slightly, smirking, or begin walking over, make sure that your target is still looking at you."

Malfoy stepped towards him once more.

On instinct, Harry backed away.

"Then, you lure them in. Don't do anything stupid."

The last statement came out in a mere whisper.

Harry's defense rose as his back collided with the wall.

Malfoy, coming dangerously close, trapped him by placing a hand on the side of each of his ear.

"After you lure them in, steer as close to their face as you can."

The instructions now came at a whisper as the blond acted out the parts.

"Reduce them to the pile of mess when they are on the verge of begging."

Half-consciously, Harry noted that one of the Slytherin's hands floated quite near his lower stomach.

Malfoy was also breathing softly down his neck, making Harry squeeze his eyes shut from watching any more. He felt the heat and hands leave his side a moment later.

Slowly peering through his eyelids, Harry noted that the Ice Prince looked really smug.

"I'm not going to request that you try to seduce me, because no one could."

Harry, finding his courage, snorted.

Malfoy waved the reaction aside.

"Crying. Malfoys do not cry often, but at times, when needed, it is mandatory."

The Slytherin began walking in a circle around Harry, making the Golden Boy a bit more nervous than intended.

"Think of something that upsets you, Potter."

Harry racked his mind.

What upset him? What sort of thing made him cry? His mind was blank.

The prefect stopped pacing in front of him and peered closely at his face.

"Weasley and Granger are _dead_," he said softly, emphasizing the word _dead_, "you are at their funeral. They risked _their_ lives saving _yours_. You feel guilty. You blame yourself for their deaths."

The corner of Malfoy's mouth twitched, Harry realized, as he watched the mouth form the heart beating words.

"You stand in front of the two graves. You say your final words, then, you _cry_. You can not help it. Your voice cracks. You break down."

Somewhere in the distance, some sort of funeral music played. The comforting place in which the Room of Requirements provided dissolved into the outdoor world where Harry stood in front of two graves with tombstones labeled his friends' names.

Malfoy stood in between the graves, whispering what was going on.

Harry gulped, desperately trying to loosen the hold of such thought.

He was _not_ going to cry in front of Malfoy. He was simply _not_ going to show his weak side. He would _not, not, not_.

And yet-

Harry stood, his sights blurred. A trickle of the salty teardrop escaped from the corner of his eye.

He tore his sight away from the blond and wiped away the tears.

A moment later, he heard Malfoy whisper something else.

"Very good."

Next time he glanced up, the room turned into a clear white place.

"Take your anger out on me."

The order given by the Slytherin male was very easy for Harry to comply to do. Immediately, after the order was given, he vented out his anger of the assignment, the lessons, _everything_ he could think of at that moment that did not involve Voldemort, whatsoever.

At one point, Harry even swung at the Ice Prince with a fist, but unlucky to his being, his wrist was caught and brought down.

"Now act horrified, Potter."

The tone taken by Malfoy was still soft and firm. Harry puffed his cheeks and tried to calm down from humiliating himself from his blow up of anger moments back.

"_Now_."

Harry scowled at how commanding the other was and ceased to obey.

"Do we need to bring out a boggart?"

A flash of surprise and terrifying expression flinted across the ravenette's expression.

Malfoy seemed contented by that.

"As for the last ; Malfoys usually act happy on occasions when needed."

No need telling, Harry simply flashed a stupid grin, and Malfoy passed him.

That was easier than he thought.

"Part one of _Lesson A_ is done. Now to stage two."

Harry huffed.

Malfoy ignored that as well.

"We will start with the simpler arrangements, as in bed, items, and clothing arrangements."

Harry peered at the messy beds ( that just appeared ) with covers thrown aside, pillows halfway off, curtains just stopping a few paces from its original position.

It looked a lot like Ron's when he wakes up in the morning, not that that would matter, though.

"What are you waiting for?"

Harry snapped out of his trance and glanced over at the Slytherin.

"How?"

"You don't know how to make your bed?"

"I do."

"Then, just do it. I don't have all night, Potter."

Harry scowled and made his way towards the messy bed.

Dragging everything except the mattress on the floor, the Gryffindor started on tugging on the thin sheet of silk towards the bed. Moments later, he ran around and got the bigger and heavier blanket to top the thin one. Minutes after that, Harry could finally have the relaxation of putting the pillows of right and gazing over at Malfoy for approval. Instead of approval, though, the blond frowned.

"That took you seven minutes."

"The blankets were heavy," Harry murmured.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and lifted his wand.

"Magic, Potter. We are near of age."

With a flick of his wand, Malfoy rearranged the bed.

"Pillows sit up and are partly covered by the blanket. The other smaller pillows lean against the two main ones. All edges of the outer blanket must be shown. The curtains will remain completely opened unless you are sleeping. Is that clear, Potter?"

Harry, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes, nodded.

"Good. Moving onto items."

With a wave of the prefect's hand, the room transformed into a bathroom. "There is a specific arrangement for these products. The toothbrush and toothpaste are located on the left hand corner side. The hair products should remain in the cabinets along with hair utensils. Shampoo and soap are located within the second shelf in the cabinet."

Harry glanced at himself in the mirror, then at the blond.

Merlin, Malfoy can really talk a lot.

"Do you understand?"

Once again, Harry nodded without word.

"To clothing arrangement, then."

"Shirts, pants, coats, scarves, belts, shoes, and hats will be sorted by the fabric first, then color- dark to light."

The bathroom dissolved into a wardrobe that sat in front of them.

Harry looked at the clothing items separated by article in each basket, then at the blond who gave him a look to start sorting.

"Are you kidding me? This will take five hours!"

"Six, actually," the Slytherin corrected, "if you are sorting my wardrobe, but seeing this, maybe thirty minutes maximum."

Harry scowled.

"I understand what to do- why do I need to do it? I didn't touch anything in the bathroom arrangements."

Malfoy gazed at him wearily.

"Because it was already sorted."

"You've got to be kidding me," the Golden Boy groaned.

"Would you rather sort pictures?"

"I'm okay," Harry said quickly after the comment.

Malfoy folded his arms over his chest.

"So get started."

"This must be some sort of joke," Harry grumbled as he walked over to the basket of shirts.

"Magic, Potter." the blond drawled from the side.

Magic? Of course!

Harry mentally slapped himself across the head for not thinking of such- especially since he was a wizard!

Where was his wand?

Ah.

"Uh . . ."

The ravenette stared at the clothes.

Behind him, Harry could sense that Malfoy had rolled his eyes.

"What spell do I use?" Harry asked, scowling at himself for resorting to his arch enemy for answers.

"Just focus on what you want to levitate. Use _Wingardium Leviosa_. Seriously, Potter, did you listen to the lesson from first year?"

Harry gritted his teeth against a smarty retort back, since after all, Malfoy could give him more clothes.

Wait- this was the Room of Requirements- he could wish the clothes to not be required!

Heh.

If only that worked.

So therefore, Harry looked into the basket again and began sorting. A moment after the shirts were all up on hangers, Malfoy stopped him from confining to the other baskets.

"Silk always come first, then the less important. Last are the part this and part that ones. Plus, this green is a shade lighter than this one, so it goes first."

Harry grumbled under his breath, but advanced onto fixing it nonetheless.

A good thirty minutes later, Harry flopped down on the armchair.

"Merlin, Malfoy. I'm not going to order my clothes like that. Why did I need to do it?"

The blond peered at him from behind the clipboard.

"Because I said so."

Harry snorted and leaned back against the chair.

"Now," Malfoy began, making the Gryffindor peer towards the Slytherin's direction.

Malfoy was rested in the opposing armchair with his legs crossed and hands folded together on his knee.

"Ask me anything that is not too personal."

Harry blinked and sat up ever so slightly.

"What?"

The white-blond figure rolled his eyes and leaned back against the chair, bringing up one arm so his chin could rest on the back of his hand.

"_About Me_ is the third part of _Lesson A_. Ask me what you want to. We have thirty minutes."

"Er . . ."

Harry desperately racked his mind for questions.

"Are you a Death Ea-"

"Besides questions involving the Dark Lord," Malfoy cut in swiftly.

Harry huffed and looked elsewhere for an idea for a question.

"Uh . . . What's your favorite color?"

Malfoy gave him another one of his _are you serious?_ looks.

"Pathetic question, Potter. But if you must know, it is green."

Of course, Harry knew that.

He sniffed.

"When's your birthday?"

"June fifth."

"Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws?"

The prefect shot him another one of _those_ looks.

"Ravenclaws, of course. _What the _hell_ is a Hufflepuff_?*"

Harry blinked.

"_Hufflepuffs are particularly good seekers_?*"

"Never mind, Potter. Continue."

The Gryffindor sniffed and rested himself against the armchair once more.

"Er . . . favorite type of food?"

"French."

"Why am I asking questions?"

"To get to know me."

"Then, why do I need the other lessons?"

"To learn my lifestyle."

Harry blankly stared at the blond figure.

"And I would want to learn your lifestyle?"

"Look, Potter, I'm not doing this for my health."

Harry crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"Any more questions?"

"What's your father up to?"

"None of your concern," came the quick reply.

Harry quirked an eyebrow.

Malfoy glanced off.

"I said questions that will not pry into my privacy, Potter."

"But it's your father's privacy."

The Ice Prince glanced back and scowled. "

Which is my business. Not yours."

"Fine," Harry sneered, hopes of finding out what was going on with Voldemort crashed.

"Any more questions?"

The ravenette leaned back against the chair and searched his mind.

There were many things in which he wanted to ask Malfoy, but they all related to Voldemort or Malfoy's personal life. By Malfoy saying _personal_, that ruled out nearly eighty percent of all questions Harry had in mind. Now, he desperately groped for a question in which can benefit him.

"Uh . . . can I go now?"

"We still have twenty minutes."

The Gryffindor figure huffed.

What was to ask of Malfoy?

_Hm_.

"Why are we enemies?"

That was a good one, even though Harry already knew the answer . . . kinda.

"You rejected me," the Ice Prince replied blankly.

"So?"

"I am always never rejected."

"Oh."

Another awkward silence.

Harry dug through his mind of questions.

What would Ron ask? "Do you play wizard chess?"

"On occasions."

What else? Hm . . . what would Hermione ask? "What rank are you in the school based on grades?"

"Third."

Harry sat up a little, his eyebrow shooting up.

"Really?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and smirked ever so slightly.

"Of course."

"Hermione's first, right?"

"Granger, Zabini, then myself."

"Oh."

Why didn't he know that?

Wait. Zabini? That name sounded very familiar.

"Anything else, Potter?"

"Do you believe in nargles?" A question from Luna.

"What the bloody hell is a nargle?" Malfoy scoffed.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, then continued with Neville's question. "Are you good in Herbology?"

"I'm fair in that class. Quite boring, if you ask me."

Malfoy glanced off elsewhere, but Harry continued staring at the white-blond figure.

"Who do you like?" Lavender's question.

"That is none of your concern."

Of course not.

"Are you a virgin?"

Malfoy's head snapped back in his direction as the gray eyes glared daggers in his direction.

"What kind of question is that?" he spat, utterly displaying a disgusted expression. "Of course I am."

"Just wondering," Harry grumbled under his breath.

"Do you draw?" For Dean.

"Not unless it is mandatory."

"Do you prefer males or females?" For . . . Ginny?

"As in?"

The heir of the Malfoy fortune quirked an eyebrow.

"Er . . . as in romantic relationship?"

Harry couldn't help but felt his cheeks burn ever so faintly.

Malfoy smirked.

"Males, then. Females are too whiny for my tastes."

That answer made Harry sit up at the edge of his seat and stared. His mouth hung open, but no words dare make presence.

Malfoy, apparently noting this reaction, snorted.

"Why so surprised, Potter? It's not obvious?"

"I thought you- Pansy- you're- _what_?"

The corner of the white-blond's mouth twitched.

"Never mind that, Potter. Next question."

Still experiencing the shock, Harry hurried to ask another question that pulled his mind from the latest answer.

"Do you know what a telephone is?" For Mr. Weasley, of course.

"What?"

"A telephone," Harry repeated.

Malfoy's face twisted into some sort of unexplained expression.

"Is that some sort of muggle device?"

"Yeah."

"Then, no. Why would I fondle with muggle devices?"

Ignoring that question, Harry glanced off, attempting to come up useless questions.

"If you can dye, er, curse your hair-"

"I will never."

"Let's just say you will-"

"I will not-"

"Just pretend!"

When Malfoy didn't say anything, Harry continued.

"If you can curse your hair any color, what would it be?"

"A lighter shade of blond."

Harry's emerald hues surveyed the other's hair.

"Is that even possible?"

Malfoy snorted.

"Of course."

"Okay . . . how about eyes?"

"Green."

Harry blinked.

"Green is my most favorable color," the Slytherin explained rather quickly, and Harry left it at that.

"What's your patronus?"

"A ferret."

Harry's eyebrows sky rocketed.

"Really?"

He snorted back a laugh at the memory of the incident back in fourth year.

"It's not funny, Potter," the other male hissed.

The ravenette couldn't help it- he clutched his stomach and laughed.

It was just _too_ funny.

( five minutes later )

"Are you done yet, Potter?"

Harry sucked in a breath and slumped against the armchair.

"A _ferret_ . . . what a coincidence . . . ahaha-"

"I see you're not."

Malfoy stood up.

"I'll leave you to your mechanical laughing, then."

Harry scrambled to his feet quickly.

"Okay, I'm up," he announced, under his breath, though, he snickered.

_A ferret, ahaha . . ._

The blond rolled his eyes once more.

"Tomorrow after lunch, meet me in the Prefects' baths. The password is _creme fillers_."

Malfoy shot him one more look before leaving the Room of Requirements.

Harry couldn't help but grin as he walked out after the Slytherin.

_Wait till Ron hears this._

_

* * *

_

* A Very Potter Musical quoted ; Dumbledore and Cedric said these two lines.  
Review, pl0x?


	3. lesson b

**Warnings:** male / male, slight OOCness, stupidity, serious! Draco, innocent! Harry, uncensored words

**Disclaimer:** Pfft, I can only wish.

**Author's Notes:** Ah, there was an error within the AVPM quotes last time, as _MeIzzyBambi27_ pointed out. Thanks for doing so! Annnd a big thanks to those who continued to stick with me and reviewed. 11 reviews from chapter 2- you guys really made me happy! Now, hopefully I can make you happy / a bit more happier with this chapter ~

* * *

The moment Harry strolled into the prefects' bathroom after muttering _creme filler_ to the door, he was greeted with the smell of vanilla and an irritated Malfoy. "You're late." Although Malfoy was probably annoyed, his expression read emotionless.

Harry stepped away from the door with a sigh. "I had to get away from Ron." He watched as the white-blond's face twisted into an expression of dislike, but made no comment on it. "So, what are we doing today? I have Quidditch practice soon, and I want to get this over with."

Malfoy, who was seated on the edge of the bathtub, stood up and removed his Slytherin robes from his body. After discarding it, he gazed at Harry, who was still trying to function what he just saw. "_Lesson B: Bathing, Bickering, and Bed_," he answered, giving Harry a faint nod. "Strip."

Harry blinked and stared. He could've sworn that Malfoy just told him to _strip_. Maybe he heard wrong. But Malfoy was staring right back at him, as if expecting him _to_ strip.

"I don't have all day, Potter."

"What?"

"_Strip_. It's a simple command."

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot. "What? No!"

Malfoy quirked a brow ever so slightly. "So, you're willing to take a bath in your clothes? You can leave your . . . boxers, or whatever you're wearing underneath that, on if you want. Besides, there's probably nothing to see," Malfoy tsked.

At this point, Harry really did flush a few shades of red from embarrassment. When he didn't answer, Malfoy spoke up again. "If it makes you more comfortable, I can take off my-"

"No!" Harry cut in quickly, then lowered the volume of his voice, "I mean. You don't need to. Keep your clothes on." He could have sworn he saw a flash of amusement flicker across the blond's gray eyes after those words.

Nonetheless, Harry took off his robe and peeled his trousers and shirt off before quickly stepping into the bubble bath. Immediately after that, his eyes resumed sight at Malfoy. To his surprise, Malfoy wasn't snickering or laughing. Rather, he faced the wall as he undid his tie and unbuttoned his white long-sleeved shirt. And Harry couldn't help but stare. After all, it wasn't something he saw everyday.

When the white button up slid off of Malfoy's back, Harry couldn't help but admire how smooth and pale Malfoy's back was. He knew it was awkward to be looking at Malfoy in such admiration, but the skin was just _so_ smooth. It was like a girl's skin.

A few moments after watching Malfoy fold his clothes and put them aside from water's harm, Harry turned back and looked at the mermaid portrait. The mermaid batted her eyelids at him before smoothing down her hair. Though, her attention soon drew away from him. Likewise, Harry's attention was no longer focused on the mermaid either. Malfoy had came up and stood behind him. Harry knew this because the moment he felt that someone was standing near, his body tensed on instinct.

"The temperature of the water should fall between 36.5 to 38 degrees*," Malfoy began in a calm tone. As he said this, he dipped his hand into the bubble bath.

Harry found himself holding his breath as Malfoy's hand stayed under the water for a bit before he drew it out.

"After your body adapts to the temperature, you need to get your hair wet and washed." Without warning, Harry's head was forced underwater. Because it came without a warning, he started to panic. He flailed out his arms and grabbed hold of the hand that pushed his head down. Luckily, the hand that held his head down pulled him back up for oxygen.

Harry took big amounts of breath before wiping the water from his eyes. "You're bloody mad!" he hissed. "At least give me a fair warning before you dunk me, Malfoy."

There was an enchanted sound of a chuckle behind him. "I gave you a warning."

"You did not!" Harry argued back, brushing the wet locks out of his eyes.

"Bickering is the second part of this lesson. Now, for washing your hair, you want to start with the shampoo."

A medium sized, cream-colored shampoo was put in front of his face. Harry made a grab at the bottle. "You don't want to put too much, just enough to put bubbles in your hair," Malfoy continued. Harry opened the bottle and sniffed it. Vanilla. It smelled like Malfoy. Shrugging it off, Harry squeezed out the shampoo before putting it in his hair and rubbing it around. This apparently did not satisfy Malfoy.

"You're doing it wrong."

"Well, then, what am I supposed to do?" Harry asked irritably.

There was a sigh before he felt his hands being knocked off his head. A pair of new hands now danced in his hair. To much of Harry's dislike of the person, he actually enjoyed Malfoy's fingers scraping his scalp lightly. It was like a massage to the head, which relaxed his tensed body. So when Malfoy retracted his fingers, Harry pouted slightly.

"Hold your breath."

Harry was about to ask why, but quickly picked up the reason the second he felt a hand on the back of his head. Moments after his head was submerged in the water and the hands of the Slytherin Prince tangled among his locks to wash the soap out, Harry was pulled out smelling of vanilla.

"Next. You apply the condition to make your hair soft and shiny." This time, Malfoy didn't give him the bottle. Rather, he just put the faintly scented conditioner throughout his hair. "You leave it on for a minute or two," he murmured at one point. Once Malfoy's fingers drew away, Harry looked up at the other.

Malfoy's lips were pressed into a thin line as he searched for what appeared like body soap. Once located, he returned Harry's gaze. For that second, neither of them looked away or move. Their eyes simply locked. Harry was sure he saw an unknown emotion flicker across Malfoy's eyes, but had glanced away before he could assure himself of what it was.

"With washing your body, you want to rub this soap in a circular motion." As these words were said, Harry felt Malfoy rub the front side of his shoulder with the bar of soap. Many times, he would feel the occasional brush of Malfoy's finger against his skin. And every passing time that he did feel that, Harry began to feel awkward.

Not the good type of awkward either. The conversation yesterday had returned to the Golden Boy's thoughts. _Malfoy liked blokes._ And he was a bloke. _What if_? Of course, Harry didn't think that the Ice Prince would have a fancy in him ( they were enemies, after all ), but it still made the situation weird.

Luckily, Malfoy gave him the bar of soap a few seconds later. Harry washed himself in silence and continued to keep his mouth shut when Malfoy instructed him to rinse the conditioner from his hair.

When it was time to get out of the bath ( thank Merlin ), Malfoy had walked over to the sink and washed his hands to allow Harry privacy, but not before leaving a spoken note to _dab_ his skin dry and then applying lotion. Harry was ushering to get into his clothes, so he dabbed and wiped his body dry. And then he realized that his boxers were wet. But thankfully, he was a wizard.

After fitting himself back into the clothes, Harry looked around for Malfoy. Malfoy was finished dressing and was now looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Harry cleared his throat. The blond-haired male snapped away from his thoughts and looked back at Harry. "Follow me," he instructed before whisking out of the Prefects' bath.

On the way to the seventh floor, Harry considered just turning around and making a run for it, but the lesson wasn't over yet. If he had done what he wanted, he was sure that Dumbledore would frown down on his decision. So he kept his place.

In the Room of Requirements, Harry found himself in the same sort of room like yesterday. When Malfoy sunk himself into the armchair and waited for Harry to sit, the brunette hesitated, but sat down nonetheless.

"Bickering, Potter," the Slytherin prefect began, "is arguing." A faint smirk tinted the corner of Malfoy's mouth. "Your taste in friends is horrible."

Harry's brow furrowed. "My friends help me. Your friends are only friends with you because you're rich."

"Right," Malfoy snorted. "And your friends aren't friends with you because you're the Chosen One?"

"Hermione and Ron are not like that! They don't care who I am."

"Careful, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "Don't show your anger through emotions. Put it through words." The blond leaned back in his armchair. "I'm sure they wouldn't befriend you if you were in Slytherin."

"Why would I be in Slytherin?" Harry scowled.

"I was saying _if_. Not that you should be in Slytherin, considering that you are this of an annoyance to me already."

"_Likewise_, Malfoy."

Malfoy leaned forward, a frown expressed on his lips. "I would never be in Gryffindor. It's a pathetic house with stubborn members."

"Slytherins are equally stubborn. And at least we have courage. Your lot just fret and flee."

This seemed to amuse Malfoy. He chuckled lightly before leaning back into his chair. "But we are cunning."

"That, I agree with." Harry paused briefly to come up with another response. "But you're not cunning."

"And you would know?"

"Actually, yes, you are cunning. You use your father's rank to gain your friends."

The amusement was cleared off of Malfoy's face the moment he had mentioned his father. Harry, noticing the change of expression, wanted to take it back, but the deal was already sealed.

"At least I have a father that cares."

"I'm sure your father would give you away to Volde-"

Malfoy stood up abruptly, making Harry's words die in his mouth, and stepped over to where Harry sat. His eyes flashed of anger as he drew out his wand and threatened the Golden Boy with it. Harry stared up at his enemy. "You're not going to curse me," he said carefully.

"I can," the white-blond male responded in a whisper. "Apologize."

Harry flinched when he felt the tip of Malfoy's wand touch his throat. "Okay, alright. Malfoy, I'm sorry. You just said not to express your anger through emotions."

Malfoy, realizing his mistake, jerked his wand back and tucked it away. The anger slowly slid away from his eyes as he gazed down at the sitting brunette. "I apologize," he sneered faintly through his teeth. Before Harry could respond to the apology, Malfoy continued. "Moving onto bedding."

Harry watched as the Slytherin Prince waved for the room to dissolve into a bedroom. After taking his place next to the bed, Malfoy gazed in his direction and gestured him over with a quirk of the brow. Once Harry warily took the space next to the taller male, he was told to get into the bed. Of course, Harry eyed the Slytherin suspiciously, but ended up following the simple instructions.

"Always sleep in the centre with the blanket drawn up to your shoulders. Whatever you do, Potter, do _not_ curl up into a ball. Your back _will_ hurt in the morning."

Harry blinked up at Malfoy, who looked completely serious as he explained this. It was near impossible that Malfoy was even agreeing to teach Harry of his lifestyle because of Dumbledore's simple request. Nevertheless, Malfoy also didn't hex him when he mentioned his father. This thought made Harry cringe at past memories. He was glad that he didn't get hexed, but like the feeling before, it was _awkward_. It wasn't like Malfoy. Especially when Malfoy apologized- it was as if Malfoy was doing this willingly and with maturity. Harry knew he would never admit it out loud, but somewhere within him, he feared Malfoy's mature and less angered side. It felt as if Malfoy overpowered him. The corner of Harry's mouth curved into a frown as he zoomed back into what the Slytherin was now saying.

"Always sleep with the curtains closed. And wake up before eight each morning. Understand?"

Harry nodded faintly and glanced away from the other.

"Any questions?"

Harry shook his head.

"Are you mute, Potter? Talk to me."

The brunette's sights snapped back to the Slytherin prefect. "No questions," he answered stiffly. Malfoy stared at him for longer than the needed time, then gave a simple nod. "Alright. Tomorrow, when everyone is out for breakfast, lock the doors." Harry opened his mouth to ask why, but once again, Malfoy cut him off. "Don't ask questions. Just do it." Harry closed his mouth. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow, Potter." Without further words, Malfoy turned and was off.

Harry heaved a sigh as he threw the covers off the bed and got out.

Malfoy was acting weird. He needed to approach Hermione about this. Maybe she had some sort of logic for his behavior. Surely, it couldn't be because he grew mature over the summer. Then again, it was their sixth year. By now, the constant bicker between them had ceased to once every other day rather than every day.

Shaking his head from thinking too much, Harry exited the Room of Requirements.

* * *

* about 98 to 100.4 degrees fahrenheit.

**AN:** Whoa. This chapter turned out longer than I expected, but I guess that's a good thing for you guys. Reviews are loved! (:


End file.
